“It’s okay,” Gabrielle said. “Just tell us what happened.”
Marianne drew a deep breath and spoke softly. “A week or so ago, Mrs. Hale asked me to call the office and schedule a meeting with Mr. Garrett and a few members of the board. I did as she asked, but that night she grew ill, and then…well, she never made it.”
“Marcus said that he thought there was another will,” Kat said. “One that contradicts the one they read yesterday.”
“He thinks so,” Marianne said. “And maybe there is. I don’t know anything for certain.” For the first time, Marianne smiled. “Mrs. Hale was a bit of a pack rat. And a worrier. People who enter this world with nothing always are. If there was another will, she probably would have kept a file for herself.”
“Where?” Kat asked. “If it exists, where do you think it would be?”
“Did she have a safety deposit box?” Gabrielle tried. “A safe, somewhere? Maybe a—”
“It’s in her desk,” Marianne said suddenly, cutting Gabrielle off. “If she has another will, it would be in her desk in London.”
“Cheerio, Kitty Kat,” Gabrielle said in her best Cockney accent, but her smile faded as soon as she read the expression on her cousin’s face. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s just that…if we were running this con”—Kat cut her eyes at Marianne—“which we aren’t. But if we were, the first thing I’d do is destroy any copies of the old will. I want you to know that, odds are, whoever is behind this has already done just that.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t be so certain.”
“Why?” Kat prompted.
The woman smiled. “Because the desk where Mrs. Hale stored her most important papers was made by Alexander Petrovich.”
“It’s a Petrovich puzzle desk?” Kat asked.
Marianne gave a wide, knowing grin. “Someone could empty every drawer in it and still miss the hidden compartments. If the will exists, there’s a good chance a copy of it is still there.”
Neither girl spoke on the long drive back to Brooklyn. It was midday and the sun was bright. Spring flowers dotted green fields beneath a bright blue sky. It was almost like a painting. Kat was half tempted to steal it. But when they reached the brownstone’s stoop, their shadows fell across the door, and it was like a spell was broken. They could no longer pretend that nothing was wrong—that they didn’t have work to do. And when Kat opened the door, she wasn’t surprised to hear her uncle’s deep voice echoing through the house.
“Katarina! Gabrielle! Come in here.”
For a moment, Kat was certain she was in trouble. She glanced at Gabrielle, and together the two said, “Yes, Uncle Eddie?”
“Sit down,” he said, pointing toward the old mismatched chairs. “We need to talk about Katarina’s young man.”
“I’m sorry about the window, Uncle Eddie. I’ll get it—”
“The window can be fixed, Katarina. I’m far more concerned about him.”
“I know.” Kat nodded solemnly. “Me too.”
“So…” There was a pile of potatoes on the counter, and Eddie took a knife and began to peel. “It seems there is a great deal of mystery surrounding why the late Mrs. Hale would leave a billion-dollar corporation to a teenager and nothing to her oldest, dearest friend.”
“How did you know that?” Kat asked.
“I hear things,” Eddie told her.
But Kat knew better. Kat knew Eddie heard everything.
“If the butler is correct, then this is a most impressive con.”
“We know,” Gabrielle said, and Eddie talked on.
“It would have to be an inside job. Simple, but not easy.”
“We know,” Gab said again, but Eddie acted like he hadn’t even heard her. Kat couldn’t tell if he was frightened or impressed, and she felt a little bit of both as she sat silently watching her uncle peel potatoes, stripping away the skins.
“What did the maid say?” Eddie asked.